“Ain't telling you shit, brother. You're a grown man. That's for you to figure out. You can put two and two together. You know what you've gotta do already. That's not coming from me. It can't, and it won't.” He held the pipe, tipped his face up, and blew a strong string of thick smoke toward the ceiling, where it hung like a thunderhead.
“Straighten your shit out,” he growled. “Clear your head as much as you can before we ride into Georgia, guns blazing. Do whatever the fuck it takes so that when we return to Knoxville with bags of bloody Deads colors in our saddlebags, you can live with the brothers. Live with yourself. Live with us again, Joker, without acting like you're three goddamned seconds away from ramming your blade into some poor bastard's throat.”
Sage advice. Wise, ruthless, and completely fuckin' infuriating.
“We done here yet?” I said, standing up.
“Yeah. Don't let the door hit you in the ass,” Dust growled, clearly disappointed.
I headed out, and went straight for my room. Last thing I wanted was rejoining the brothers drinking and laughing at the bar.
A couple girlie voices cut through their chatter. Somebody's old lady must've shown up. Or maybe a couple bubbly sluts for the single guys, bitches who'd just as soon as ride a brother's cock for a jolt to their * and a hopeless stab at being a club wife.
One big, happy ass biker family.
Turned my stomach.
I couldn't relate. I couldn't fuckin' have it.
The last three years, I'd drank and fucked and joined in the big roasts with all my boys. But I didn't fuckin' smile. Didn't feel it when the men I'd sworn my life to sat around me, didn't even feel it when I was buried in some bitch to my balls, hate fucking her in between swigs of booze.
Riding helped. So did the dog at my feet, who came over when I dropped on my ass, rocking the shitty bed. Bingo whined, forcing me to scratch his head.
Aw, fuck it. Today, I sat up, leaned down, and hugged the greedy bastard.
He licked my face once before I pulled away.
I loved him because he didn't ask stupid fucking questions, or bust my balls over the past. He loved my sorry ass because he didn't know any better. Didn't understand how permanently fucked up I'd gotten three summers ago.
Damned dog knew too much about me. Only one person walking this planet really did.
I'd pushed her away. Fuckin' flung her outta my life like she'd burn me down.
Just like I swore I always would if I ever saw her face again. Summer had the only face in my memory as cruel and unforgettable as Freddy's.
I couldn't get her killed, letting her back, and I'd make her hate my evil ass more than she already did.
But fuck, why had she come back? Nothing made sense about it.
Why the hell had she tracked me down after three damned years of nothing?
Bingo whined again, licking my hand, just like he could sense the hell roiling my mind. I looked down into his sad, dark eyes, smoothing his fur 'til I saw that tail wag.
“Don't worry about it, boy. I'm just flushing some shit.”
Some shit. Yeah, fuck me.
If only it were as easy as pulling a damned lever.
No, ever since she'd come to me, not once but fuckin' twice, pushing deeper into my world at Grandpa's home...I'd been the one who walked away covered in shit.
Five more minutes, I sat with my dog, the same nightmares stewing in my brain. Decided I only had two choices.
I could throw the dog a bone, walk out to the bar, and steal a bitch from Lion, Tin, or Sixty for the night. I could try for the millionth time to bury my ruined life and wake up with another hangover and an awkward little girl hanging around my neck.
Fuck that. It hadn't worked before, and it damned sure wasn't gonna start.
Option B was even more fucked up, but at least it'd be a stab at something different, instead of the same old shit that never worked.
Right about now, Option B sounded pretty fuckin' good, because it meant answers.
Standing, I patted the big dog's head, then walked him over to the cushion in the corner, laying him down for the night. “I'll be back in a few hours,” I said, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a treat.
A couple minutes later, I had my helmet locked on my head. My bike droned steadily on the open road.
Normally, the purr comforted me, no different than every other brother wearing this patch.
Didn't do a damned thing for me today except ratchet up the tension, add to all the bitter questions sticking like gum in my throat.
I had to find Summer. Had to ask her why the fuck she'd come back. Had to know why she still wanted these lips on hers when it was totally obvious she'd kissed a dead man who wanted nothing to do with her.
Something about all this didn't add up. And if I couldn't figure out my own shit, like the Prez wanted, then at least I'd take a crack at hers.
*
Seddon never paid anybody shit. Knowing how harsh our old hometown could be, plus seeing the rusted out shitbox she drove, I knew she had about two places she could be staying with her money, if she hadn't blown town already.